


Augusta and the Burglar

by anxiousgoat



Category: Chalet School - Elinor M. Brent-Dyer
Genre: Boarding School, Farce, Gen, World War II, reposted from the Sally Denny Library
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 19:36:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21481708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anxiousgoat/pseuds/anxiousgoat
Summary: There's a new eleven-year-old at the Chalet School, and she is determined to protect the School's inhabitants from a midnight marauder. So is Miss Wilson.(Reposted from the Sally Denny library. I'm not even sure when I wrote this - fifteen years ago or perhaps a little less. I've tidied it up a little bit, but not much.)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 5





	Augusta and the Burglar

Augusta Clemency Raymond had been at the Chalet School for exactly a week, and this was the first time she had succeeded in finding her dormitory without getting lost or asking for help. All the third formers went to bed at the same time, of course, but she was determined to know her way around by herself – after all, what if the school was bombed and she was the only one left alive? She might never get out! Come to think of it, she ought to find out where the kitchen was, too.

On this night, a night like any other, Augusta washed, undressed, and said her prayers, then began a whispered game of The Minister’s Cat with the girls whose beds were on either side of hers. They were arguing over whether the Minister’s Cat should be described as horrible when lights-out was announced, leaving the question unanswered. Ten minutes later, Augusta was snoring.

It was said in the Raymond family that once they were between the sheets nothing would wake them. Uncle Gregory Albert Gregory, according to Augusta’s father, had once slept through the firing of a gun a mere few feet from his ear, though it should be added that he had also consumed a large quantity of port after dinner that night. Augusta had not, but she had expended an unusual amount of energy during the afternoon’s hockey game. Despite this, she woke up very suddenly in the early hours of the morning, heart thumping.

She sat up in bed and listened. Surely those were footsteps! Yes, they were, and stealthy ones too. Someone was sneaking along the corridor outside. Augusta swung her legs out of bed and tiptoed to the dormitory door. Opening it, she peered into the dim corridor, lit only by the regulation blue bulbs. Someone was there. It was a tall figure, and was wearing what appeared to be a dark, voluminous cape. In the gloom she could not see its face as, not quite silently, it passed the dormitory door. Augusta thought quickly. None of the mistresses would be wearing a cape, and the prefects certainly wouldn’t. No, this could only be a burglar.

The intruder passed. Augusta waited several seconds, then emerged from the dormitory. Since the tiptoeing had proved to be an uncomfortable method of locomotion, she dropped to her hands and knees instead, crawling along the corridor in the burglar’s wake. He seemed to know exactly where he was going, and made for the nearest staircase. Augusta waited for him to begin his descent, then rose to her feet.

Unfortunately, her attention was fixed so firmly upon the criminal that she forgot to watch her own feet, and missed a step. Emitting a shrill wail of horror, she crashed down. The burglar turned just in time to receive her full weight right in his stomach. He toppled backwards like a felled tree and, hopelessly entangled, they rolled down the staircase.

The intruder had, perhaps because of an unconscious reflex, clasped Augusta to him, but let go once they rolled to a stop. After a moment of breathless dizziness, Augusta realised that she was unharmed. With what she admitted herself was admirable presence of mind, she rolled off the burglar, who made an ineffectual grab for her, and fled down the corridor. The burglar, appearing more desirous of extracting revenge than taking his chance to escape, scrambled to his feet, hitched up his robes, and gave chase.

Meanwhile, back in the dormitory, Kathie Robertson, who had the bed nearest the door, had been woken by a breath of chilly air. She had not opened her eyes in time to witness Augusta’s departure, but when she realised the door was still open she crawled out of bed, muttering threats. Something prompted her to glance out before closing it, and she caught sight of Augusta vanishing down the corridor on all fours. Kathie paused. This was not the usual behaviour of a lavatory-goer. Plus, it was the new girl and she was supposed to be looking after her.

After a moment’s thought, Kathie concluded that she wasn’t certain how capable she was of dealing with a person who crawled around the school on hands and knees at night, and went to wake an assistant. Mollie Avery, on being poked in the face, sat up with a suddenness that was literally stunning, since the top of her head hit Kathie squarely on the chin. Kathie bit her tongue, yelled, staggered backwards, and sat down hard on the next bed. Three minutes later, the entire dormitory was awake, Kathie had explained, and they were all sallying out in pursuit of their absent form-mate.

Even as they streamed from the dormitory, blood-curdling yells drifted up to them from the floor beneath. Without hesitation, they raced down the corridor, wakening the members of the two dormitories they passed, who set off after them. Kathie and Mollie, in the vanguard, reached the top of the stairs in time to see the unknown figure running off down below.

“A burglar!” screamed Kathie, thrilled. She plunged down the staircase at top speed and a moment later Mollie shot past her, mounted on the bannister. The whole crowd followed, some tumbling down the stairs, others taking the swifter, if riskier, option of sliding down the bannisters. After all, the mistresses could hardly give them detention if it was in pursuit of a burglar.

“What’s happening?” demanded a latecomer to the chase, descending three steps at a time and leaping to a halt beside Mollie, who had become entangled in her dressing gown cord as she dropped to the floor and had had to pause to re-tie it.

“Burglars!” she said in her most dramatic voice, tying the dressing gown so tightly that when it was all over she had to ask for help to get it off again.

“Gosh!” said the latecomer, darting out of the way just in time to avoid being mown down by a fourth-former who was zooming towards them, whooping.

Augusta, horrified at the prospect of being captured by a ferocious, revenge-seeking criminal, was running faster than she had ever run in her life, even during that afternoon’s hockey game when Claire had been trying to stop her scoring an own goal. Taking a corner at a dangerous speed, she dived into the Fifth’s form room in the hope that her pursuer would go on past. Unfortunately, she knocked over a chair, swerved to avoid another, and crashed into a desk. The door opened. Augusta, in a panic, pushed the window up and threw herself out. As she tore around the side of the House, she had no idea that some way behind her two dozen girls were all attempting to get through the window at the same time.

“Ouch!” someone protested in a rather muffled voice. “Kathie, get your elbow out of my mouth!”

“I can’t, there’s someone trying to yank all my hair out,” came the anguished reply.

“Come on!” A hand pushed Kathie out of the window. “He’ll get away!”

The noise they made as they emerged, yelling with blood lust, roused the sleepers in the dormitories above, who flooded out in search of the uproar. It was not long before they encountered a crowd of excited small girls charging back up the front stairs.

“What do you kids think you’re doing?” yelled Elizabeth Arnett, looking most un-Head-Girl-like with her hair standing on end and only one slipper on. 

“There’s a burglar!” they gabbled as they flowed around her in an unstoppable tide. Kathie Robertson grabbed her arm as she went by and tugged her with them.

“Quick!” she gasped. “Or he’ll get away!”

Afterwards, Elizabeth could never explain why she had joined in the chase without question, but the fact was that she cast her dignity – and her single slipper – to the winds and began to run. Seeing their leader succumb, the dozen or so seniors who were with her made no objection, but took to their own heels, thundering through the corridors with shouts of encouragement.

Since they were sprinting through the School’s sleeping quarters, their numbers were being added to every minute and very soon about sixty girls and most of the Staff were racing along the passages, most with no idea of what they were doing. The Staff, it is true, were attempting to find out, but the stories they heard in gasps and puffs were disjointed and confusing, and none of the girls would stop running.

Augusta had by this time made a speedy tour of the entire School and was beginning to tire. She put on a spurt, rounded a corner, bounded through the door of her own dormitory, closed it, and leaned against it, bending double and trying to catch her breath. At least here there would be half a dozen other girls to help her if the burglar caught her! Then she looked up and realised, with a jolt of horror, that the room was empty. At the same moment, a sound came to her ears, a sort of thundering roar, growing louder by the second. There were voices too – it sounded like a mob.

Augusta stood up straight again, opened the dormitory door, and looked out. It _was_ a mob! As they swept past, Augusta fell into step, glad she’d had a chance to catch her breath.

“What’s going on?” she demanded of Claire, who was thumping along beside her, red in the face and breathing heavily.

“There’s a burglar,” Claire managed to wheeze. “We’ve got to catch him!”

“Oh, I say!” said Augusta, delighted that she was now pursuer rather than pursued. Having got her second wind, it was an easy task for her to wriggle through the crowd until she reached the leaders, where Kathie, still refusing to give up her quarry, was holding her own. She almost jumped out of her skin when she saw Augusta jogging easily beside her.

“Where’ve you been?” she gasped. It was a relief to see Augusta alive and apparently in better shape than most of them. Augusta gestured towards the dark figure, who was still a good twenty yards in front.

“The burglar, of course!” she said. Even as she spoke, the tall figure slowed down and looked around, realising for the first time that its victim had disappeared. A shout of victory went up from those who could see what was going on, and a moment later they were on him. Those in the rear pressed forward to see what was happening; the ones in front objected to being crushed, and a fight broke out.

Augusta, fending off a fifth-former she didn’t know, could see Miss Burnett beating off two prefects, who for some reason were trying to tie her up with their dressing gown cords. Miss Linton was wrestling, apparently to the death, with Miss Slater, and four members of Augusta’s own dormitory were crawling round, trying to find the burglar in the melee. Augusta punched the fifth-former in the eye and scrambled away from her, only to find herself somehow at the bottom of a heap of Middles who had all fallen on top of her at once. 

The fight petered out eventually. People began to sit up and crawl away to safer spots, breathing heavily and staring at one another rather wildly. A few pockets of violence remained, but eventually the breathless and battered Miss Wilson spoke.

“What,” she said, and summoned up a glare, “Is the meaning of this?” They stared at her, those in the know mostly pretending that they weren’t. Kathie Robertson cleared her throat.

“We – er – there was a burglar, Miss Wilson,” she admitted, her voice rather croaky from all the shouting. “We were just trying to catch him. Only he seems to have disappeared.” She looked around.

Miss Wilson had got her breath properly now, although she didn’t get up.

“We?” she said, in a dangerous tone. “I have been engaged in the pursuit of an intruder, yet I find myself attacked by –” she allowed her gaze to sweep the the crowd of dumbfounded faces, most of which stared hurriedly at the floor or the ceiling. “By about half the School, it seems.”

Gasps and whispers rustled through the corridor as girls and mistresses alike grasped the full meaning of her statement. Once again, it was Kathie who dared to speak.

“You mean – we’ve been chasing – _you_ – all this time?” she said faintly.

At this point, Miss Linton and Miss Slater caught each other’s eyes. A snort of laughter forced itself from Miss Slater and Miss Linton clapped her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her giggles. Everybody else stared at them. Miss Wilson glared. There were several moments of horrible silence. Then Miss Wilson let out a strange wheeze and began to laugh. She got to her feet a little unsteadily as the crowd collectively relaxed and chuckled.

“Everybody, back to bed!” she commanded. “It’s almost three in the morning and I can assure you, there will be no leniency for anyone who’s late to breakfast. We will sort out this muddle tomorrow. Off you go.”

And such was the power of her personality that half an hour later the School was silent once more.

It took more investigating, the next morning, than Miss Wilson had anticipated. Miss Annersley had laughed for almost ten minutes on first being told the story, and had then queried the assumption that her colleague had been chasing a burglar in the first place. Miss Wilson snorted at that.

“Nothing but a large man could have knocked me down the stairs and winded me like that,” she assured the Headmistress. “Really, Hilda, you seem to forget that I had him in sight most of the time. I could see perfectly well that he wasn’t one of us.”

Miss Annersley diplomatically dropped that question for the time being, and instead suggested that they enquire into how half the School had come to be pursuing Miss Wilson in the middle of the night. Miss Wilson considered this.

“Young Kathie Robertson seems to have been in the forefront of the whole thing,” she remembered, at length. “I don’t think most of them knew what was happening – they just followed the rest.”  
Accordingly, Kathie was summoned to the Headmistress’s study and questioned.

“Gussie had gone,” she explained. “I looked out and she was crawling away. So I got Mollie, but the rest woke up too, and we went after her, but then we saw the burglar and we thought he might be after Gus. So we went after him – er – you.” She fell silent.

“Really, Kathie,” said Miss Wilson reproachfully. “You should have fetched help instead of chasing an intruder yourself. If it had been a real burglar you might have been hurt.”

“Sorry, Miss Wilson,” mumbled Kathie.

“And who is Gussie?”

“Augusta.” Kathie turned pink.

She was roundly scolded and then sent to fetch Augusta, who arrived looking far too bright-eyed for someone who had spent half the night running around the School. Realising that they wanted to hear her tale, she launched into it with gusto.

“Well,” she began. “I was woken by the sound of silent footsteps.” The two mistresses forebore to comment, and Augusta went on. “I opened the dormitory door and there was a huge, shadowy figure wearing a huge black cape! For one terrible moment, I saw his face.” She paused for dramatic effect. “It had the most piercing eyes you’ve ever seen, and a gigantic curly moustache. I could tell immediately that he was an out-and-out villain and wouldn’t rest until we were all dead in our beds.”

Miss Annersley, biting her lips, glanced sideways at Miss Wilson, whose face was filled with outraged indignation. Augusta appeared not to have noticed. She took a deep breath and continued her narrative.

“I crept out of the dormitory and followed him. I thought perhaps he was going to start with you, Miss Annersley, and I knew I had to protect you if I could. But then he started going down the girls’ stairs and – well.” She hesitated, screwing her face up. “Well, I tripped over and fell down the stairs on top of him, as a matter of fact. He grabbed me in a vice-like grasp and I managed to get hold of his hair, but he didn’t let go.” 

Miss Wilson rubbed the top of her head sadly.

“When he hit the bottom he did let go. I think he was winded. So I got up and ran away. I was going to hide and then follow him where he went, but he chased me.” Her tone became aggrieved. “I can’t think why; I should have thought he’d have wanted to get away. Anyway, I ran away, and he ran after me, and I jumped out of a window. But he followed me round the House and back in the window again, and round and round for simply ages. Honestly, he wouldn’t give up. So I went up the front stairs and hid in my dormitory. I think he went past, but then I heard the others coming down the corridor so I went out, and they said they were after him too. But when we jumped on him he turned into Miss Wilson, and I think that’s all.”

Augusta looked at them, her eyebrows drawn together.

“I don’t really understand that part,” she admitted.

There was a long silence. Miss Annersley’s mouth was moving in an odd way. Eventually, without look at her colleague at all, she said,

“Miss Wilson, perhaps you would care to explain to Augusta what actually happened.”

“Oh yes, Miss Wilson, please do,” said Augusta earnestly. Miss Wilson snorted, but complied.

“I had been attending to Gwensi Howell, who had toothache. I was wearing my dressing gown.” She looked at Augusta severely. “As I began to go downstairs, someone cannoned into me and knocked me down to the bottom. As soon as we landed, they fled and I, naturally assuming that I had been attacked by an intruder with nefarious intent, gave chase. After pursuing them around most of the School building, I lost them and was promptly swamped by half the girls and mistresses in the School.”

Miss Annersley’s solemn countence gave nothing away about what she was feeling. Augusta, on the other hand, was staring open-mouthed.

“It was you from the beginning!” she said accusingly. “There was never a burglar!”

“It was you from the beginning,” retorted Miss Wilson, forgetting her dignity as a mistress for a moment.

“What did you want to chase me for?” demanded Augusta, scowling.

“Because you ran away,” said Miss Wilson.

Augusta snorted.

“Yes, well,” she said sternly. “I only ran away because you chased me.”

They glared at one another. Miss Annersley sighed.

“Augusta,” she said, and Augusta looked at her rather anxiously. “Do you think you behaved wisely?”

Augusta considered the question.

“I couldn’t just let him – I mean, her – I mean, I thought he was going to murder us all in our beds,” she said. “I had to stop him! But then he started chasing me. I didn’t know it was Miss Wilson.”

“No,” said Miss Annersley. “I don’t blame you for running away. That was wise. But don’t you understand, Augusta, that you should have gone for help in the first place? If Miss Wilson really had been a murderer, you would have been her first victim. You couldn’t have stopped her.”

Augusta made a face and sighed.

“That’s true,” she said. “Even when I knocked her down the stairs she just got back up again.”

“So in the future,” prompted the Headmistress.

“I’ll fetch help,” Augusta conceded. Miss Annersley smiled slightly.

“I’m very glad to hear it,” she said. “There will be no punishment, given that Miss Wilson – well, let’s just say that you both thought you were acting for the best and leave it at that. You may go.”  
Augusta departed, forgetting to curtsey, and as she turned the corner to go to her form room, peal after peal of laughter rang out behind her.


End file.
